Chapter 254: Shadow Puppets and Lamplight (20)
The appearance of Yan Shixun was like a reassuring anchor for everyone.
Both Song Ci and An Nanyuan let out a long breath of relief, smiles returning to their faces.
To them, no matter how dire the situation became, as long as Yan Shixun was there, there was no need to worry.
What’s more, Yan Shixun once again proved with actions that their trust in him was not misplaced.
The entire shadow puppet museum had collapsed into ruins. Dead trees had toppled over, and the corpses and shadow puppets that had previously been chasing them all lightly fell to the ground. They turned into paper figurines, and the corpses became countless paper money offerings.
As the wind blew, the courtyard was filled with the rustling of white paper money fluttering everywhere, like a funeral procession.
Though the scene was ominous and unsettling, no one had the time to care about such details now.
To them, escaping death and having Yan Shixun return to their side was already more than enough.
Lu Xingxing was hopping on one foot, wildly waving at Yan Shixun and the others, excited to the point of looking like a complete fool. Song Ci couldn’t bear to look directly and turned away, unwilling to admit he had such a silly friend.
“But Brother Yan, what exactly happened?”
Song Ci asked anxiously, “And Xie Lin’s missing too.”
Xie Lin?
Yan Shixun reached behind him and pulled out two figures.
“Here they are. I picked them up on the way,” he said calmly, showing Song Ci Xie Lin.
At that moment, Xie Lin and Zhang Wubing looked disheveled and covered in dirt. The once-elegant and composed Song God now looked nothing like his usual refined self.
Song Ci was shocked. “Did you two go coal mining?!”
Xie Lin let out an awkward cough and brushed the dust off his clothes.
Still, he looked a lot better than Zhang Wubing—who had taken a full face of ash. And after failing to hold back his tears, his face was now streaked with black smudges, making him look both pitiful and ridiculous.
Song Ci had originally intended to scold Zhang Wubing for not taking better care of Xie Lin, but after seeing his pathetic state, he stared at the little fool for a long time with a complicated expression. His lips moved as if to say something, but in the end, he remained silent.
Nan Tian also walked over with concern, asking how Xie Lin had suddenly vanished from his side. He hadn’t felt a thing.
At the mention of this, Xie Lin looked just as confused.
He tried hard to recall what had happened and vaguely remembered that he had dozed off while watching the shadow puppets. In his dream, he had found his sister again. She looked exactly the same as in his memories—still the little girl who loved pretty dresses and dolls.
Then, they lived happily together, as if the kidnapping had never happened. All the suffering and torment of the past two decades simply didn’t exist.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw Mr. Yan.
Though Xie Lin felt reluctant to leave that dream, he knew clearly from his sister’s unchanged face that it had only been a dream. So, while there was longing in his heart, he only sighed wistfully.
Just like anyone waking up from a beautiful dream, left with a hollow sense of loss.
“A dream? That doesn’t sound dangerous… Then why do you look like that?”
Song Ci eyed Xie Lin from head to toe, full of suspicion.
Xie Lin looked like he had rolled around in the dirt. No matter how you looked at it, he didn’t seem like someone who had come through safely.
Song Ci knew all too well how serious Xie Lin’s depression was. With all the suicide attempts over the years, Song Ci had gotten used to keeping a close eye on him, afraid he might do something drastic again if triggered.
He worried that Xie Lin had remembered something sad about his sister in the dream and, while no one was paying attention, had tried to harm himself again.
But as soon as the topic was brought up, Song Ci keenly noticed that both Xie Lin and Zhang Wubing started avoiding eye contact and dodged the question altogether, refusing to give a proper answer.
Zhang Wubing even stole a glance at Ye Li, looking like a total pushover who had been thoroughly bullied.
Then, before Ye Li could look back, Zhang Wubing quickly averted his gaze and even began humming to himself, trying to act like he knew nothing and had done nothing wrong.
Song Ci was utterly confused by this scene.
But Ye Li merely lifted his lashes slightly, swept his gaze over Zhang Wubing and Xie Lin, and then calmly looked away, not thinking there was any problem at all.
——When they broke through the shadow puppet play of the woman being chased by villagers, Ye Li had tightly shielded Yan Shixun in his arms. Ghostly energy swirled around them protectively, so much so that even when the village collapsed and the world seemed to cave in, not a speck of dust touched the corner of Yan Shixun’s robe.
All the ghosts lowered their heads in fear and stepped aside, terrified of angering the new Lord of Fengdu.
Many fierce ghosts were seen holding their own heads and dragging their own intestines, trying to tidy themselves up to look more human—less monstrous—afraid their bloody appearance might taint Yan Shixun’s sight.
Their reverence was so extreme that even the most experienced exorcists in the human world would have been stunned.
They wouldn’t dare dream of such a thing—evil spirits who could wreak havoc in the mortal world, now behaving like subordinates in front of Yan Shixun.
No, even the old-time servant workers didn’t show this much respect.
But the ghosts knew very well—on the list of those they absolutely must not provoke, alongside the Lord of Fengdu, they now had to add one more name: Yan Shixun.
Yes, they were wicked and dangerous, but that very nature had made them intimately familiar with the deepest and softest parts of human emotion. Besides, many of the older ghosts had been in Fengdu for over a thousand years—they had the eye for such things.
Which ghost had ever seen the Lord of Fengdu so enraged?
Before this, who could have imagined that the reason the Lord of Fengdu returned to the mortal world was because of a living person?
Yan Shixun had made it happen.
Because he disappeared, the Lord of Fengdu—cut off from Heaven and the Great Dao—shattered reality and illusions alike, slaughtering the hidden ghosts of this false world to search for him. Everywhere he went, rivers of blood followed, and the ghosts trembled, begging for mercy.
Then, because Yan Shixun was being hunted by villagers, the Lord of Fengdu unlocked the prison gates of Fengdu, unleashing the imprisoned ghosts from the depths of hell to destroy everything in their path.
Even Yan Shixun had no idea what had taken place during this time, as Ye Li didn’t think it was necessary to trouble his exorcist with such matters.
But the ghosts had witnessed it all.
This world had a unique energy field, different from other ghostly realms. Instead of being built purely from ghostly energy, it resembled a shadow puppet stage, where the truest shadows of people were cast on the screen. Because of that, everyone’s true appearance had been revealed.
Including Ye Li.
——The Lord of Fengdu had never expected that one day, he would be restrained by his former power. A thousand years ago, his past self had set a trap for the present him, erasing the persona he used to walk among the living and forcing the real Lord of Fengdu to appear here.
Because of this, both the ghosts and Fengdu existed within Ye Li’s shadow, and they had seen everything unfold clearly.
Many of the powerful vengeful ghosts who had once massacred entire cities or villages thousands of years ago were terrified, their hearts pounding. They thought to themselves: thank goodness they witnessed this—if they had accidentally provoked that exorcist in the future, they wouldn’t even know how they were crushed to death by the Lord of Fengdu.
But while Yan Shixun was tightly protected by Ye Li and didn’t even have a single strand of hair disturbed in the apocalyptic destruction, the others weren’t so lucky.
Xie Lin and Zhang Wubing were practically two peas in a pod in their misery. The fierce wind made it impossible to open their eyes, and every time they opened their mouths, they got a mouthful of sand. The sand and stones stung their faces, and even inside their clothes, they could shake out two pounds of it.
Supporting each other, the two of them struggled forward behind the couple in front, doing their best not to be blown away by the wind.
Zhang Wubing: This isn’t sand—this is dog food! I’m being force-fed whether I like it or not. It’s even slapping me in the face—ow, ow, ow—my poor Brother Yan, awoo…
Zhang Wubing never imagined that the one he had guarded against most—Jing Xiaobao—didn’t end up stealing Brother Yan. Instead, the one he had barely paid attention to—Ye Li—had taken him away.
Even now, back in the shadow puppet museum, Zhang Wubing’s eyes were still filled with tears, unable to let it go.
If he actually had the strength to fight Ye Li, he would’ve rushed over crying to argue with him right then and there.
But when he recalled that devastating, world-shattering level of power he had witnessed before… Zhang Wubing shrank his neck in fear, feeling suffocated.
He even had this strange thought—maybe in his past life, he and Ye Li had been destined enemies or something.
Rubbing his wind-blown, sand-filled hair that felt rough to the touch, Zhang Wubing found it puzzling.
Why did he vaguely remember disliking Ye Li in a past life?
So weird. Where did that feeling come from?
No matter how hard he thought about it, Zhang Wubing couldn’t figure it out.
Ye Li’s gaze landed on Zhang Wubing for only a brief moment before returning to Yan Shixun. His previously indifferent eyes now softened with a trace of a smile.
—All the affection and protection of a ghost deity had been given to just one person. How could he spare any attention for anyone else?
Meanwhile, Yan Shixun was busy checking the number of people in the courtyard, trying to see who was still missing.
“But didn’t you say you saw two Taoists?”
Yan Shixun suddenly remembered what Ye Li had told him earlier and asked in confusion, “The two Taoists didn’t come into the shadow play with you, and they’re not in the courtyard either. Where did they go?”
Ye Li had a guess.
Because he had been in a hurry to find Yan Shixun, he hadn’t paid much attention to the two Taoists. Still, he believed the Haiyun Temple taoists weren’t weak. No matter what, they should be capable of protecting themselves.
Besides, those two Taoists had been visibly shaken when they witnessed Ye Li slaughtering ghosts without the slightest restraint.
They had always thought Ye Li was a exorcist from some sect that worshipped deities and passed down a complete tradition. But when Ye Li acted without holding back, he was completely shrouded in an overwhelming aura of ghostly energy.
That ghostly energy, along with his power that far surpassed anything the Taoists could comprehend, clearly revealed Ye Li’s extraordinary nature.
The two Taoists were stunned.
But because they had hesitated for that moment, they couldn’t keep up with Ye Li and ended up going to a different location.
They had fallen into some other unknown place.
As for Ye Li, because a statue of his image from a thousand years ago existed here, he had some understanding of what was going on.
Since it was a shadow puppet play, there wouldn’t be just one story. Yan Shixun had ended up in the most dangerous script—the one involving that woman—because Zhang Wubing had been with him at the time. That was also the source of all the anomalies in the shadow puppet museum.
As for the others—like the two lost Taoists and the variety show staff who weren’t currently in the ruins of the museum—they had likely entered other scripts.
The one thing they all had in common was that everyone had swapped identities with the characters in the shadow puppets.
To Heaven and Earth, they were no longer human—they were lifeless shadow puppets.
As a result, the Dao was misled in its judgment, and Heaven and Earth could not intervene. All forms of divination and magical calculations had failed.
Even though they had returned from the shadow play back to the museum, they hadn’t truly come back to reality.
Ye Li also remembered the two Taoists had said that when they arrived a step too late, the museum had been completely empty—no people, no convoy—it had all vanished into thin air.
The person behind all this had yet to reveal themselves. This shadow puppet play wasn’t over.
The gongs and drums pounded; the erhu wept mournfully.
On the stage, lights burst behind the curtain. The shadow puppets were still being held by strings, performing the same scene over and over.
Ye Li also told Yan Shixun about the ebony statue. At first, Yan Shixun was stunned. Then, after pondering for a while, he said:
“So now, we’re not only dealing with an unknown mastermind still in hiding, but also a thousand-year-old statue made with your former powers?”
Yan Shixun looked at Ye Li with a half-smile.
Ye Li could only nod helplessly, his heart filled with growing resentment toward the person who had caused the ebony statue to resurface.
He looked at Yan Shixun anxiously, afraid the exorcist he cherished would think he had made things more complicated and troublesome.
But no matter how much Ye Li thought about it, digging through his memories from a thousand years ago, he just couldn’t imagine anyone back then who could have seen him and even sculpted a statue in his likeness out of ebony—especially one now being used to suppress the evil spirits in the museum and surrounding area.
Thankfully, Yan Shixun didn’t blame Ye Li. He knew him well enough.
This was the last remaining god beneath the Great Dao—someone who didn’t even respond to the talismans or incense of cultivators. Fengdu had become less and less visible in the human world over the past century. Many of the surviving portraits of the Lord of Fengdu looked different from one another. In many temples, the statue of the Lord of Fengdu was just a solid block of wood with no face—just a symbolic form.
There was no way Ye Li would have willingly let his true appearance be passed down, let alone carved into a statue.
—Especially not one made of ebony, meant to suppress evil.
Yan Shixun understood clearly—this wasn’t Ye Li’s style.
“Xiao Bing and I actually saw other scripts on the DVD player. If what you said is true, and everyone else, including the two Taoists, has fallen into other scripts, then I probably know where they are now.”
After comparing notes with Ye Li, Yan Shixun shifted his attention to the others.
Hearing this, Zhang Wubing was initially confused, but then he quickly realized what Yan Shixun meant.
“Oh, right, right! There was another disc in the DVD player at the time.”
Zhang Wubing suddenly came to a realization. “Back then, we even tried playing that disc, but it wasn’t the scene we originally saw—the one with the woman being chased. So we just turned it off.”
Yan Shixun nodded, confirming Zhang Wubing’s account. “Exactly. Since the medium we used to enter the drama was the television, and the others neither entered the same story as us nor ended up in the courtyard like Nan Tian, then there’s only one possibility left.”
“—They all went into a different story.”
“But I suppose that’s a small blessing amidst the misfortune.”
Yan Shixun said, “There were two Taoists with them. If the rest of the crew ended up meeting those priests, their safety would’ve been more or less ensured.”
“Now that the disc is destroyed and we can’t enter that story anymore, the focus shifts back to us.”
Yan Shixun quickly sorted through the sequence of events, sharply identifying the most crucial point.
When faced with a situation that was too tangled and difficult, the most effective approach was—cut through the mess with a swift blade.
Only by quickly uncovering the person manipulating the shadow puppets and unraveling the play itself could they all return to reality—and only then could the people who had been separated from them truly be safe.
Any other method might endanger the others. The longer one stayed trapped in the shadow puppet show, the worse the situation would become.
Speaking of the DVD player and the manipulation of the puppets, Yan Shixun suddenly recalled that in the room where the disc and television were located, the poster featured not only the puppet masters who had already died and turned into corpses at the theater in the lake, but also two others who weren’t among them.
One of them was Master Bai, the 28th-generation inheritor of Southwest shadow puppetry. The other was a carpenter named Zheng Shumu.
If someone was behind the puppet manipulation… could it be Master Bai, the one Zhang Wubing and the director’s team had repeatedly tried to meet but never managed to?
Yan Shixun fell silent in thought.
He began replaying past memories, frame by frame, filtering out the details and searching for anything that felt out of place.
He recalled that the person behind everything had appeared twice: once on the wall behind the poster board, depicted as the puppet masters manipulating shadows; and once as the female wooden statue seated onstage at the lake theater.
At the time, Zhang Wubing had commented that this style of framing was new and interesting—images at the front, middle, and back gave the poster more depth.
But in hindsight, that wasn’t adding depth.
…Of all the images on the poster, only one person depicted hadn’t died—Master Bai.
And when comparing the wooden female statue at the theater to the image behind the poster—she had only five puppets in her hand, whereas the poster showed six.
One was missing.
Could it have been Master Bai?
As Yan Shixun had everyone check for injuries and assess their physical condition, he continued pondering silently.
Lu Xingxing was squatting at Yan Shixun’s feet, eyes full of tears, refusing to get up.
Though there was a hint of deliberate whining and play-acting, his complexion was genuinely awful—pale as paper, almost transparent, and his lips had lost all color. Online, someone might’ve complimented his look as a “cool white with pale lips” aesthetic.
But the truth was, he’d lost too much blood, and it had quickly drained his strength. His body temperature was dropping too. Clinging to Yan Shixun’s leg, he trembled uncontrollably.
“B-Brother Yan, how about you give me your coat…”
Lu Xingxing’s teeth were chattering from the cold. It felt like he was locked in an icebox.
The scarf tightly wrapped around his ankle had already been completely soaked in blood. Wherever he sat, he left a red imprint.
Even so, he hadn’t asked Yan Shixun to help him stop the bleeding.
He had heard what Yan Shixun said earlier—he knew that the blood-stopping spell wouldn’t work right now, and since his wound was linked to the corpses, ordinary medical treatment was useless.
So he didn’t plan to trouble Yan Shixun. He quietly waited for them to return to reality, for the charms and spells to work again, and only then would he treat his wound.
Yan Shixun felt like he was being hugged by a block of ice.
Looking down, he saw Lu Xingxing weakly leaning against his leg.
He frowned slightly, recognizing how bad Lu Xingxing’s condition really was.
“Ye Li.”
He calmly called the ghost deity’s true name, with such familiarity and ease that there was no trace of distance or reverence—like Ye Li had always been by his side, a companion and someone he trusted.
Ye Li responded with a smile. Pleased by Yan Shixun’s warm tone, his mood lifted noticeably. Even his attitude toward Lu Xingxing, who was clinging to Yan Shixun, became more agreeable. He wasn’t nearly as annoyed as before.
“Can you stop the bleeding for Xingxing?”
As the shadow loomed over them, Yan Shixun looked up and asked naturally, “If we delay any longer, he’s going to become a dead Xingxing.”
“Taoist Song Yi might have another disciple, but losing such a stupid one would take a lot of fun out of his life, wouldn’t it?”
Then, looking down at Lu Xingxing, Yan Shixun smiled and added, “But don’t worry. If you really die, Xiao Bing will compensate you generously. It’ll be enough to build you a grand mausoleum and hire someone to burn incense every day—your spiritual offerings will never run dry.”
Lu Xingxing: “!!!”
He stared at Yan Shixun in horror. His hands, still holding onto Yan Shixun’s leg, loosened instinctively. Then, despite his weakness, he quickly scooted backward on the ground, terrified Yan Shixun might start planning his afterlife next.
He was afraid Yan Shixun might go so far as to come up with his tombstone inscription.
Lu Xingxing: Terrified! I never realized before—master uncle and master aunt are equally scary. I was so naive to think master aunt was the scarier one… sob sob.
Even Song Ci and the others looked at Lu Xingxing with sympathy in their eyes.
They had originally thought Lu Xingxing was just inexperienced, which was why he couldn’t stop the bleeding. They hadn’t expected even Yan Shixun to say the same thing.
Only then did Song Ci believe Lu Xingxing, and he genuinely felt sorry for the poor guy—this silly mutt really was pitiful, getting teased back and forth by Brother Yan, looking like he was about to start wailing.
But just as Lu Xingxing was halfway through crawling, he suddenly felt a force stopping him.
He looked up and saw that the person he had bumped into from behind was actually Ye Li.
Ye Li grabbed Lu Xingxing by the collar with one hand and hauled him up. He followed Yan Shixun’s instructions to the letter, completely ignoring Lu Xingxing’s struggles and frightened expression.
His long, slender hand swept across, and a faint, dark ghostly aura spread across Lu Xingxing’s ankle.
Though living humans couldn’t use talismans or spells, ghost deities possessed power innately—they didn’t need to use talismans to communicate with the heavens or borrow strength from the gods.
So Ye Li wasn’t affected in the slightest.
If the one guarding this place hadn’t been his own self from a thousand years ago, he wouldn’t have been so powerless to break the barrier.
Thinking of that ebony staue, Ye Li’s eyes turned cold, and fury welled up in his heart.
But Lu Xingxing, feeling the powerful presence so close, mistakenly thought it was directed at him. He trembled in fear and, on the verge of tears, stopped struggling, drooping like a defeated dog and letting Ye Li treat him.
However, unlike exorcists in the human world, Ye Li wielded the power of death. His energy was steeped in death and ghostly essence—something ordinary people couldn’t bear, and even regular malevolent ghosts couldn’t resist. It was a terrifying force.
Except for those like Jing Xiaobao, who were born with a Evil Spirit Bone Transformation and ghostly energy, no one could endure Ye Li’s presence for long—let alone borrow his strength.
That was precisely why Jing Xiaobao had once managed to successfully trick Ye Li before he took up the Dao.
Jing Xiaobao might’ve been a vengeful ghost, but he was also an Evil Spirit Bone Transformation.
As for Lu Xingxing, although Ye Li had once willingly lent him power back on Nanming Mountain, ultimately he wasn’t truly compatible with ghostly energy.
So now, Ye Li could only grind the ghostly aura into a thin layer and apply it gently to Lu Xingxing’s wound.
This wasn’t just to intimidate whatever filthy thing was inside the wound, keeping it from continuing to cause blood loss. It also worked as a substitute for the scarf, holding the wound tightly together like a temporary patch for his ruptured blood vessels.
When Lu Xingxing realized he had actually stopped bleeding, the previously dejected person dangling from Ye Li’s hand suddenly yelped, “Awooo!” in surprise, immediately regaining his spirit.
“Heavens, it actually worked!”
After Ye Li set him down, Lu Xingxing tested his arms and legs. When he found he could move without any issues, he immediately began hopping around energetically.
“Thank you, Master Aunt! You’re the most amazing person under heaven and above earth—nobody beats my Master Aunt! Hahaha! Thank you, Master Aunt… and Mastr Uncle too!”
The others watched the energetic Lu Xingxing and, though his yelling gave them a headache, couldn’t help but smile and shake their heads. Compared to the gloomy, downcast Lu Xingxing from earlier, they preferred this lively version.
Only An Nanyuan was still stuck on something Yan Shixun had said earlier and couldn’t snap out of his thoughts.
“So, is it like we’ve all fallen randomly into two rabbit holes in an Alice-in-Wonderland kind of setup?”
He turned to Zhao Zhen and asked, “Help me make sense of this, my brain’s about to explode.”
Zhao Zhen sighed helplessly but still smiled and nodded. “That’s probably what it is. But don’t worry—Brother Yan is here.”
An Nanyuan laughed. “That’s true. Brother Yan is way more reliable than Xingxing.”
Lu Xingxing: “I heard you talking trash about me!”
Yan Shixun burst out laughing at Lu Xingxing’s antics. After a short chuckle, he waved for everyone to leave the ruins of the museum.
The reason this land hadn’t collapsed into the shadow-play illusion like before was because they were still present. Ye Li hadn’t fully destroyed the museum yet.
But it was about time.
Just as everyone was preparing to leave, a knock suddenly came from the remaining door of the Shadow Puppet Museum.
*Thud…*
*Thud thud thud!*
Yan Shixun immediately caught the sound with his sharp senses. He turned around swiftly, his gaze striking like lightning toward the door.
There, among the broken walls and debris, stood a middle-aged man craning his neck in curiosity and surprise, peering into the ruins.
When the man saw Yan Shixun looking at him, he scratched his head awkwardly and smiled in explanation. “I heard a huge commotion over here, so I came to see what was going on. Didn’t expect anyone to still be around.”
“Are you here sightseeing? No one’s come to see these shadow puppets in years—I thought this place was abandoned.”
The man looked genuinely surprised. His face, weathered by life, was lined with wrinkles, but his expression carried no ill intent. There was a refreshing and honest air about him—one of those faces people instinctively trusted.
He carried a bamboo basket on his back, stuffed haphazardly with dried branches and sticks, likely collected as firewood.
His clothes, though faded from countless washes, were still clean and tidy. It was clear he took care of his life and wasn’t just drifting through it aimlessly.
No matter how you looked at him, he was the kind of person who easily left a good impression.
The middle-aged man didn’t notice Yan Shixun’s scrutinizing gaze. He seemed just like an ordinary farmer or craftsman—possessing all the admirable traits that came with such people. But due to rarely interacting with outsiders over the years, he had grown rather dull to the attention of others.
“I told them this broken-down building hadn’t been repaired in decades, and it was only a matter of time before it collapsed. The village refused to believe me. And look—now something has happened.”
The man muttered a few complaints under his breath, then quickly turned to ask Yan Shixun, “Are you the tour guide? Ah, you should’ve looked into this before coming. This museum hasn’t been maintained in over a decade. During the summer flood season, the water soaked through everything and the foundation crumbled. It’s been a dangerous building for a while now—bound to collapse eventually.”
“Guess I should’ve painted a warning on it—‘Dangerous Structure’ or something.”
He sighed and asked with concern, “Are you all okay? Anyone hurt?”
Yan Shixun frowned slightly and silently examined the man. No matter how he looked at him, the guy really did seem like what he claimed to be—a villager from nearby, who had simply come over after hearing the noise.
He tilted his head slightly to glance at Ye Li beside him, silently asking: What does this man’s soul look like? Any signs of guilt, or anything unusual?
Ye Li understood immediately and winked at Yan Shixun: No. The man carried no karmic burden, no ghostly aura—he was just an ordinary person.
Even so, Yan Shixun still found it strange. How could there be a villager here, when they were clearly inside the shadow puppet play and not in the real world?
But if even with Ye Li’s help, neither of them could detect anything wrong with this man…
Yan Shixun finally spoke, asking the middle-aged man, “We’re not hurt, thank you. Are you the one managing the shadow puppet museum?”
“Wouldn’t say I’m in charge, it’s technically part of the village’s property. Used to bring in some income back in the day.”
The man replied as he scratched his head and smiled: “But we really don’t know much about running it. And no one really watches shadow puppets anymore. There are newer, more popular things now. So eventually no one came anymore, and the village just let it go, didn’t want to deal with it.”
“I only look in on it when I’m out collecting firewood or passing by. Can’t say I manage it.”
Worry clouded the man’s face as he continued, “All summer I was worried it’d collapse. And now… I guess I was right.”
“Good thing you all weren’t hurt. Otherwise, I’d feel terrible.”
He shook his head and sighed, “Judging from your clothes, you must be from the city, right? You might not realize this, but tearing down a house costs money now. And this one was built with funds pooled by the villagers. I couldn’t tear it down even if I wanted to—no money, and the village wouldn’t approve it either.”
“There aren’t any inns nearby either. The sun’s already set—where are you all staying tonight? Hate to say it, but this area’s completely remote. Apart from our village, you’d have to walk fifty or sixty miles before seeing another soul.”
He spoke with genuine concern and warmth, suggesting, “If you don’t mind, come stay in our village for the night. Head out again in the morning. Your tour bus hasn’t come back to get you either, right? Maybe something went wrong?”
From the man’s words, Yan Shixun could tell that he really was from the village where the shadow puppet heritage was passed down. He’d clearly seen the bustling tourist days of Baizhi Lake in the past, and he knew about tour buses and guides and the rest.
Zhang Wubing added in a hushed tone, “There is a village next to the museum. It’s where Master Bai, the inheritor, lives. The production crew’s been there a few times. We were actually supposed to stay in one of the village homes, but we didn’t expect something to go wrong just visiting the museum…”
Yan Shixun shot him a half-smiling glance. Zhang Wubing immediately shut his mouth and mimed zipping his lips shut.
Okay, he shouldn’t have said anything about “not expecting trouble”… but it’s not like he wanted any trouble, QAQ.
Yan Shixun nudged Zhang Wubing forward to cross-check the man’s information.
Since Zhang Wubing mentioned the production team had previously booked accommodations with the villagers, they must know a bit about the village. If the man’s story matched, then there probably wasn’t anything suspicious about him.
“Oh, you booked Third Uncle Bai’s place?”
The middle-aged man looked enlightened and slapped his thigh. “No wonder he’s been acting like he struck gold recently!”
“Well, that works out then. Since you’re heading to the village and I’m going home too, let’s go together. There’s a shortcut through the woods—not far at all. Way faster than walking the dirt road—saves at least half an hour. This ain’t like the city—you’ve gotta get home before dark. Otherwise, there are wolves up in the mountains, and you might run into… unclean things.”
He pointed at the mountain beside them. “This used to be the village cemetery. A lot of kids say they’ve seen spooky stuff here—scared them half to death. The buried corpses attract wolves and other wild animals. A lot of graves have already been dug up. The mountain’s dangerous. If you really stayed out here overnight, it’d be far too unsafe.”
He chuckled. “But here I was, worrying for nothing. Didn’t expect you all to have thought everything through already.”
Suddenly, Yan Shixun asked, “May I ask your name?”
“I’m Zheng Shumu.”
The man replied without hesitation, grinning cheerfully. “I do a bit of carpentry from time to time. You can just call me Master Zheng.”
And at that moment, Yan Shixun realized why the man had seemed so familiar when he saw him.
Zheng Shumu…
That was the name of the woodworking master on the poster from earlier.
But the Zheng Shumu in the poster had worn a vaguely cold expression. While his appearance matched this man exactly, the current Zheng Shumu seemed far more cheerful—and looked like he was doing quite well in life.
Aside from that, nothing else seemed off. His story matched what Zhang Wubing knew.
Yan Shixun gave a small nod and prepared to go with Zheng Shumu to the village to “spend the night.”
—Even though it was unlikely they’d actually get any sleep, it was still good to have somewhere to settle the guests. Plus, he could take the opportunity to ask around in the village for information. Maybe they’d even figure out a way to leave.
With that thought, Yan Shixun stayed vigilant but joined the others in following Zheng Shumu down the shortcut path he’d mentioned, heading toward the village.
…
The report on the Baizhi Lake incident was now laid out before the official in charge.
He opened the file—and saw the conclusion at a glance.
Numerous deaths had occurred in the village.
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